


Winter

by PippinPips



Series: Zombie Apocalypse 'Verse [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Humor, M/M, PTSD, They're honestly poor babies, Unrequited Crush, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1621436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinPips/pseuds/PippinPips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was chance enough that Charles found Tony, but there is some one who's supposed to be dead for a lot longer that shouldn't be found, not when the world is going all to hell with zombies. Not when there is no one to really awaken him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read the rest of the series, this can be read as a stand alone or as part of the whole.

 

The heat is nearly deadly. Charles can feel the sweat as it rolls down along his temple. No one else is doing well either, except Steve, who is powering along scouting and keeping his attention all around them. It’s so strange to see even the assassins flagging a little with the heat. After another twenty minutes of walking—that’s all they’ve been doing lately—Charles sends out a ping trying to find somewhere that the zombies aren’t. Except what he finds is something that feels like a mind, but too quiet. It’s like the mind is alive, but it’s also not very active. Except anyone in comas or anything else like that would’ve been easy bait for the creatures. He presses against the mind again hoping to brush against it—it’s there in the same exact spot unmoving and not even slightly reacting to anything.

 

“Is there any hospitals around this area?” he asks. Erik looks at him—tired and cranky—as if he can’t believe Charles is asking anything like that.

 

“Sorry, Charlie, don’t know this area. What about you two? Got anything Romanoff?” Tony jeers—wiping at his brow as he does. The glare Natasha sends says that Tony better sleep with both eyes open because one won’t be enough. “You need something?” Tony asks instead of engaging. Charles shakes his head.

 

“No, no I just think. Maybe we should try this direction?” No one objects, Steve just nods and takes the lead again, but Charles isn’t going to fight him for that. Every so often he checks on that mind—he hopes it’s a mind—but if whatever it is, is dangerous then at least there is only one. With the heat beating down on them it feels like it takes them too long to even get to the could-be-mind.

 

Steve sees the building first and his shoulders go rigid before he storms forward—not saying a word to anyone.

 

“Hey!” Tony squawks. He follows after hot on his heels. Charles shares another glance with Erik, one that says that Erik isn’t moving any faster in this heat and the ex-Captain America and Iron Man can do whatever they’re going to do in the broken down building until he gets there. The other Avengers don’t look like they’re about to move any faster either, though Natasha looks more like this building is the last place she ever wants to be in and Clint is at her side a hand up like it’s read to be high-fived or to be a comforting weight.

 

Charles moves only slightly quicker so that he doesn’t miss the unknown mind if Steve or Tony decide to do anything with it, which makes him the first to enter after the both of them except neither one is moving. Tony is staring at Steve worry on his face that he’s not even trying to hide, but Steve isn’t looking at him. Instead his gaze is on a large pod the size of an average sized human. The look on his face makes Charles want to dive into his mind if only to understand why he’s so pale, why his mouth is hanging and what the haunted look is for. It takes Charles a few moments—a few breaths—to look past Steve and to look at what exactly it is he’s gazing at.

 

The pod looks metal and again it looks like it could fit a grown man—it isn’t until Charles gazes up along the entirety of it he sees it is housing a man—the mind. Eyes closed not in peace, there isn’t serenity in that face because there is nothing. Full lips set to a neutral expression and eyes closed. There are crystals along the edges of the window. The man must be the only one not feeling the heat.

 

“Is he,” Steve begins to speak, “is he alive?” It takes Tony a few moments to respond, but eventually he stumbles forward and begins to look at the pod.

 

“It probably has some internal system that keeps it running, or else he would’ve been thawed. Who is this guy?” Tony asks—he’s not even looking at Steve, but it’s not like Steve is looking at him either the man in the pod has all of his attention.

 

“Is it possible for us to get, could we get him out alive?” Steve asks, his voice so hushed. The footsteps of the rest sound as they come into the room—Erik is immediately at Charles’ back his presence a comfort at the strange sight of this version of Steve Rogers. Natasha and Bruce meet at Tony’s side—Bruce to help and Natasha to look at the writing.

 

“He’s supposed to be just a fairy tale,” Natasha murmurs, “A ghost back when all of this wasn’t so…”

 

“Fucked?” Clint offers.

 

“Who is he?” Tony asks, this time he glances at Steve before returning his gaze to Natasha.

 

“Most of us call him the Winter Soldier.” Steve gave a pained noise as he stumbled closer and his fingers began brushing against the cold glass. “You know him as something else, Steve?” Charles doesn’t even have to brush against Steve’s mind to feel the anguish coming off of him in waves. “Steve?”

 

“He was Bucky.” The answer is so soft and quiet that for a moment Charles doesn’t know if he even heard anything at all.

 

“Bucky? As in Bucky Barnes?” Tony looks between the two, the pod and the super-soldier. Charles vaguely remembers learning about Captain America and the Howling Commandos, he also remembers that once upon a time someone did a report on James Buchannan Barnes and his life.

 

“Well, he’s still alive from what I can tell,” Bruce speaks up drawing all of the attention to him. “The only question is do we want to let him out. I’m pretty sure Tony and I could figure it out. No one moves for a few minutes, and they only start doing so when Steve just bows his head his expression so anguished and in pain. His fist clenches and all Charles and think is this is one of the hardest decisions Steve will make, but it probably won’t be the last.

 

“You can either let him defrost later or let him out now,” Erik breaks through the unease, but relief isn’t on its heels instead the tension comes to the point that Charles isn’t sure if Steve is going to beat the shit out of Erik or not—and he’s pretty sure no one is going to stop that from happening, except for him.

 

Again it’s the silence that pervades every inch of the room, and no one moves an inch as the stare down continues. Charles can’t see Erik’s face—he’s still behind him—but he can see Steve’s and he can only imagine what exactly is playing through his mind—he won’t dive into the man’s mind even though he wants nothing more.

 

“You’re right. I can either, I can either make sure he’s okay now or just have it on my mind,” Steve agrees finally. “Let him out. Everyone stand back, I don’t know why he’s in there and,” he lets out a breath, “when he went down it was in enemy territory.”

 

The only ones who stay near are Steve, Tony, and Bruce. Charles can’t breath as the two work and Steve just keeps his eyes one the face in the pod. Eventually the door swings open with a hiss and Charles’ breath catches in his chest—Erik’s hand is on his back immediately. He remembers the pictures of Cap and the Commandos, he remembers seeing Bucky at the right he remembers how the man looks now, but what he doesn’t remember is the shiny metal arm. Erik’s grip on his shoulder reflexively tightens and then loosens. Inside “Bucky” doesn’t move, he doesn’t even breathe but just as Charles brushes against his mind against the blue eyes snap open and his mind flares up, except it feels different—not like a whole mind. Charles nearly goes too far before he reminds himself it’d be seen as an act of violence in the eyes of at least Steve. He pulls back and watches as Steve’s eyes begin to glisten a little and his mouth works a little—unable to really speak, until a gush of breath exits his mouth and along with it one word.

 

“Bucky.” The man in the pod blinks—prying at everything that’s holding him down but doing it gently as if he’s a child moving through something his parent owns. Long hair isn’t exactly odd in this setting but it looks a little less like a fashion choice and more like neglect as if no one could be assed to even make sure his hair wouldn’t get in his way. “Bucky,” Steve whispers again, as he steps forward _Bucky_ just looks at him, frowning the entire time. To the left of him, Tony is just staring at the arm—metal looking so pristine compared to Bucky’s entire appearance.

 

First words Bucky speaks are in Russian, and Charles feels his heart crumple along with the slight slump of Steve’s shoulders. He repeats the sentence, his eyes moving over all of them.

 

“Steve,” Natasha speaks up, “He wants to know his orders and the code word. I am pretty sure if he has to ask the third time he’s going to attack.” She readies herself for an attack, lowering her center of gravity. Steve is about to stop them all—Charles knows this even without reading his mind. Any fight will attract attention and they’ve all been sapped by the heat much less a full out battle.

 

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Charles murmurs—Erik glances at him, but he doesn’t ask for clarification. Instead all he does is give the shoulder he’s still holding on to a gentle squeeze.

 

“Do it.” Charles doesn’t think twice—he isn’t going to even think that Erik probably has no idea of what he’s giving permission to, or the more frightening thing that he does. What he does is push into Bucky’s mind. It’s a mess full of holes were memories should be and whatever else. Whoever had Bucky—no he refers to himself as the Winter Soldier—wanted him to be little else than a human weapon. It takes him a few minutes, he needs to be careful not to upset the precarious balance that the Soldier has.

 

“Tell him ‘All Russia has is Winter’,” Charles orders Natasha. She gives him a sidelong glance before she repeats it—in Russian—and the moment she does the Soldier goes a little more lax.

 

“Buck,” Steve tries again beginning to sound a little like a broken record. The Soldier—Not Bucky he doesn’t have enough memories to be the man Steve thinks he is. “It’s me, Steve.”

 

“Steve?” the Soldier asks, and for a moment all Charles can see is hope creeping on Steve’s face, “Who the hell is Steve?”

 

“Buck, you know me,” Steve sounds close to broken. This must be killing him, Charles knows because their greatest tactician isn’t the type to just beat his head against a wall. The Soldier stares him down eyes tracking Steve as he moves slowly and yet as he does Charles can’t help but note that there is something happening.

 

“No,” the Soldier hesitates, “I don’t.” He looks to Natasha like she’s supposed to know what is going on, she’s supposed to thrown him a line.

 

“Come with us,” Natasha says, she’s glancing at Clint who has wary eyes on both Steve and the Soldier. “We’ll explain more later.”

 

“Weapons?”

 

“We’ll get you some.” The Soldier doesn’t argue, and he definitely refrains from putting up any fight. Instead he follows after like a puppy dog—a dangerous and deadly one. Charles finds himself flanked by both Tony and Erik, yet before he can ask Tony what he’s doing he notices that the spot Tony usually occupies is taken by the Soldier.

 

“They’re going to just need some time,” Charles whispers. Tony shakes his head.

 

“Charlie, I know when I’m not going to win this one. Even amnesiatic, that guy is pretty much Steve’s world, I don’t need special _gifts_ to get that,” Tony says, and Charles can see the new weight the one that had been briefly lifted because for a little while it seemed like Steve might have really felt the same way.

 

“He still cares.” The words fall on deaf ears, he’s been friends long enough with Tony to know when he’s not going to listen just stuck in his own thoughts.

 

“If this guy snaps,” Clint whispers from the back, “Who is going to try to take him… and Steve?”

 

“When he gets unruly, we’ll just make sure he goes down without it being permanent,” Charles hears Natasha answer. Ahead of them, Steve stops suddenly and turns to face all of them, determination settles on his face quickly.

 

“It’s already getting dark, we’re sleeping here for tonight.” No one questions the change of plans at least not out loud the noise Erik makes is the closest they get to a full complaint.

 

“He knows this area,” Erik whispers in Charles’ ear. The closeness—even with everything that is going on—sends a slight pleasant curl through Charles before he answers.

 

“I’m not sure he knows much of anything.”

 

“Except how to kill someone in less than five minutes.”

 

“Except that.” Charles leans closer to Erik than he should and he just watches as Steve does the same with the Soldier—eyes just watchful and an ach to touch—for a moment Charles wonders if he should just stop telling Tony that he has a chance, but he couldn’t have been wrong with those looks either. Except, no one is a long lost friend, love, soulmate? Charles doesn’t know all he can place is the look that Steve is giving the Soldier is a mix of honest hope and absolute destruction.

 

No one moves to give the Soldier anything to protect himself with but they do start setting all their things down, resting them on rubble, and positioning themselves for the best defense. No one has to tell the Soldier how to do any of this he falls into line quickly, but he doesn’t seem too keen on how many others are around him.

 

“Just wait until Thor and his brother show back up,” Clint comments—reading the room. “If he’s still around he’ll be really antsy then.”

 

“Where did they go?” Charles asks. Clint glances down from his perch hoping down to solid ground—in the background Winter Soldier shifts just enough that he can keep an eye on the sporadic movements of everyone else, his metal arm clenches—and shrugs.

 

“Something about Thor thinking he knows something that might help us deal with this and actually maybe survive it. Asgardian science/magic.”

 

“You really think he’s going to leave?” Erik demands. Clint gives another shrug.

 

“Eventually he’ll figure out that we’re not part of his team and he’ll either dump us or try to kill us. Who knows how loyal they kept him.”

 

“I don’t think it was loyalty,” Charles answers, the memories of the mind fresh. The way he was more like a child of someone who was only following orders because that was all he knew rather than really following them because he believed in what he was doing.

 

“Whatever you say, Chuck,” Clint replies already moving back to his perch. There is a general consensus that Steve is going to take first watch. Charles starts to bed down with that knowledge fresh in his mind of the pieces he knows about the Soldier that Steve has no idea.

 

When he wakes the Winter Soldier is still there, but he has a grungy bat in his human hand and is looking at all of them waiting for someone to say something about his make-shift weapon, but from what Charles can tell no one’s things are missing. This means either Steve got him a weapon or he waited and ran off to get one, Charles isn’t sure which one is more worrying.

 

“Did you see him leave?” he asks Natasha—she’d be the only one other than Steve that would stay up late. Her eyes narrow and her lips get a little thinner.

 

“No,” she answers.

 

“Did Steve give him that?”

 

“No.” Tilting his head up, Charles begins to open his mouth to as Clint if he saw anything only to have the archer drop down next to him and cock a brow.

 

“Nope, didn’t see anything, Chuck, just all of us sleeping and well, he kind of disappeared for a bit I took a survey and then he was back in place. I think he’s fucking with us,” Clint replies rubbing at his jaw. “Probably fucking with us.”

 

“Who is fucking with us?” Tony asks ruffling his own hair with as he yawns.

 

“Winter over there, while Nat and I were on watch he manage to slip out and then came back with that bat, and that gun right there. He’s got a gun,” Clint sighs.

 

“With bullets?” Tony whirls around and looks at the pistol that is indeed connected to the Soldier.

 

“We can always hope he doesn’t have any,” Charles offers up, but with how tense Erik is he knows that isn’t exactly true. There are most likely bullets in that weapon or else there would be no use for it.

 

“I don’t see that being likely, Charlie, it’s like your boy without his crowbar.” Tony claps him on the back. It’s almost reassuring that he’s back to being joking, but it also hurts. Charles doesn’t even need to telepathy to know that Tony is still hurting and he’ll be hurting for a long time, but he won’t show it until the last destructive moment.

 

“Pack up,” Steve orders. Again they just follow the orders, yet as Charles leans over his pack and is about to send out a ping Natasha slips along to his side—between himself and Erik—and leans close.

 

“How did you know what to tell him?”

 

“Tell who?” he tries to stall but he knows from her huff and how her hands move closer to her hand to hand weapons that this isn’t going to be something he can dance around.

 

“I didn’t forget, Xavier. If you know something about the people who had him…” she trails off the threat heavy.

 

“I don’t, I just. I know things. I’m _good with my mind_ ,” he whispers harshly. Natasha stills completely her body like a statue before she nods slowly.

 

“You’ve been keeping out?”

 

“Of course, you’re my friends I couldn’t,” Charles doesn’t complete his thought before Natasha is already sauntering away to take her place by Clint. They share a few whispers and then a glance back towards Charles, letting him know that now they both are away of what he is.

 

“What was that?” Erik asks.

 

“N-Nothing, let’s pack up.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombie Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is kind of where the Violence Warning comes in. I've found that as much as I like romances I like some violence and action just as much. Whether or not I can write it... well that's another story.

Sometimes The Winter Soldier just moves sporadically, he’ll be moving naturally and often with Steve close to his side, but then the next thing Charles knows the man is in front of him and not quite looking at him, but just gazing behind all of them, as if he’s searching for something. He pulls himself back and then when his gaze is on Charles it feels like he’s categorizing all the strengths and weaknesses as well all the ways he could possibly kill them with what’s around. Even when Erik moves closer to him, trying to intimidating to a near century old assassin, he thinks he’d rather be playing with a Witch than with the Winter Soldier.

 

“Xavier,” Natasha appears also at his side, she shudders a little back, looking at the Soldier before turning her attention back to Charles, “You have any idea if there are any near us?” It’s been a few minutes since he last sent out his mind to see if there was anyone—anything—in the near vicinity.

 

“They’re quite closer than they should be, I don’t know how they got so close,” Charles whispers. He’s failed or something like they, what should’ve happened is that he caught them before they are almost on top of them. He looks at the Winter Soldier. “I hope you’re good at fighting hordes.” He doesn’t reply just a swift shrug of the shoulders and then a chuckle. The chuckle itself is harsh and unnatural, but Charles’ attention is drawn to Natasha as she nods at Clint. He cups his face and calls for an incoming.

 

-

 

This is what he lives for, or this is all he’s good for. It’s something like that. These people who woke him up, they’re not Hydra or whoever he’s working for now. They haven’t even given  him a mission to follow, but the world is very different from when he last was awake. Guns had become easier to get, more deadly, but then they’re hard to find now.

 

He’s been waiting for his kill order—for a moment when he doesn’t have be around the man who makes him feel like there is something beneath the painful fog. He’s familiar, but then he’s not. He makes the Soldier feel like he’s falling all over again. Except he doesn’t fall that’s not what he does. He has the perfect sense of balance. The hordes come, and the Winter Soldier doesn’t even take not on what they look like—he doesn’t have a specific target in this bunch all have a kill mark on their heads.

 

Hefting the baseball bat in his human hand he takes a swing only to have the target stumble. He takes another one; there is a cracking sound of a skull and blood flies. He’s good with blood, he’s seen it pool out of bodies, drip down and sometimes some fairly impressive arterial spray. This isn’t new, what is new is that it’s only when he damages the head enough that anything stops. The most effective move is when his metal fist slams against one of their faces, bludgeoning and then the second stabs through. These…whatever they are aren’t as hardy as normal humans.

 

The Soldier grabs another one; lifting it by the neck and slamming it hard—head first—against the nearest, tall enough, wreckage until brain matter and blood drips down and the creature no longer squirms. Somewhere behind him someone is screaming _Bucky_ and he knows it’s a name that the blonde man with the familiar face says, is always calling him. He turns just in time to have another thing—it’s bigger and burlier than the rest slam into his chest. Air rushes out of his body with a painful evacuation and he just barely plants himself—keeping his body just barely from flying through the air. Someone else is screaming Charger. Whatever this is—he’s suspecting it’s the Charger---it brings with it a throng of those test targets. Reaching his metal arm back he slams it hard against the creature watching as it begins to fall back loosing what precious ground it’s gained. The thing makes a noise still trying to push against him, but he’s sure some day he’s had something worse. With his human hand he takes his gun from the holster and lets the barrel rest against the cranium. There is no fear in the creatures expression just mindless determination—the second training test perhaps—as the Soldiers fingers twitch to pull the trigger.

 

Behind them the blonde man—Steve—is keeping most of the horde off of him. It’s not often they give him actual allies, most are just cover for suppressing fire if he really needs it, which often times that’s not the case. He pulls the trigger three time watching as the bulky body shakes in reverberation with each pull.

 

“Holy shit,” the archer gasps out, “Did you just kill a charger execution style?” The Soldier feels his lips quirk into a smirk for a moment before he returns his attention to how the rest of the group is fairing. He notes that even the one who spoke the code is fighting alongside them, and now instead of the timid man with glasses there is a giant green monster tossing about the ordinary targets like their nothing. Memories twitch at his fingertips, he lets them go—talking about them puts him back in that chair and he wants to see more about what is happening now. _Steve_ is breathing hard and back at his side, he’s wiping at the grime on his face—something in the Soldier’s gut makes him want to help with that, that too he pushes away.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks. It’s kind of funny, no one actually ever asks him that, it’s more of “Can you still finish the missions.” He’s not sure if this is actually a trick or another test it feels more like they’re in the midst of a training exercise so it could be anything, but there’s an emotion on Steve’s face, one of the types he knows exactly how to exploit. Fear and worry—caring.

 

“Fine,” he replies clipped. Steve just nods his head. He doesn’t wait for any other question or test, there are more than enough of the targets—the horde—alive and well. He jumps right into the mass of it all, crushing the larynx of one, ripping the head off of another, and other more basic methods. Somewhere along the lines he lost his bat and he knows he only has a few precious bullets left, but at least he still has his arm. It hasn’t malfunctioned any percent. When it does, well that might just be a part of the training, who knows when he’ll get it fixed. Around him people are shouting directions and names like _hunter_ , _smoker_ , and _spitter_. He can’t really see any of them until he hops up on a bit of wreckage and then he has the best view of it all. The blue eyed man whose accent that the Soldier can only place from somewhere else is being pulled back while the thin and angry looking man chases him down shooting at the creature that is pulling blue eyes.

 

“Tired of helping already?” Archer speaks up, standing a good distance from him.

 

“Reconnaissance,” the Soldier answers. He hears a cry of spitter from the dark haired man with the goatee, and watches the actions of that thing. Whatever it spits the weakest ones really like to surround that portion. Mentally he makes a note to avoid that. During his observations Archer returns to the aid of the red head—her moves are familiar something almost like a transparent layer over his memories.

 

Rubble beneath his feet shifts and bursts from beneath him as the newest test plows through the debris. It’s about as big as his green _ally_ , with its head sunken in the mass of muscles that would be considered his shoulders. The soldier glances at the giant green ally—as he’s trying to find his footing again, but it’s harder when the debris he was standing on is still in motion—and wonders if he’s supposed to eventually take him out and this is just _practice_.

 

He lands, digging his metal fingers into the ground. The hulking creature has its gaze on him, if he can consider the tiny nearly sunken in thing a head.

 

“ _BUCKY NO!_ ” Steve screams from behind him, but he’s not the one who gives orders even if he leads the rest of them. The red headed woman is his handler and she’s said nothing. The creature hunkers down before rushing towards him—it’s a lot like the other one except well bigger---and there is no way he’s going to hold his ground easily with this one. He steps out of the way, bending his body nearly in half to avoid the swinging fists—he has to roll to actually keep his balance.

 

“Gun,” he requests holding his arm out. Steve is running towards him again, but the closest person is the one with the goatee. The man hesitates, just looking at the Soldier.

 

“Tony! No!” Steve yells again, but he’s nearly at them. The Soldier isn’t sure why Steve wants to impede him so much, but it’s verging on getting annoying. Except with all the yelling the big creature turns its attention to Steve. Fear, worry, anger at the creature for even focusing on Steve blooms in the Soldier’s chest and he almost stumbles back from it, but along with the feelings a pure instinct narrows his focus. He doesn’t wait for the other man to give him the damn weapon, he takes it, aiming for the giants head as he pulls the trigger. One, two, three. It eventually twists, its attention back on him.

 

“Look at me!” Somewhere and accent slips into his words, East Coast of the United States he thinks momentarily. A cocky smirk manifests itself on his face and it doesn’t quite feel wrong, it feels like something he does or should do. He keeps firing moving back, keeping his eyes on the creature. Someone else is shooting it too, but it doesn’t fall. Another prep for a charge and the Soldier is against a wall—a quick glance behind him tells him that it’s too high for a jump without prep, but then Archer is there and he’s leaning down yelling for _Bucky_ to grab his hand. He hesitates but then he turns to face the wall letting his back face the creature for a few seconds but it’s too many seconds. If he’s smashed between this wall and that creature he’s not sure he’ll just come off with a concussion. Gripping Archer’s hand he presses his foot against the wall and propels himself up, but he doesn’t find solid ground when he lands. Both he and Archer fall head over heels down the jagged edges concrete and other building materials digging into his uniform. He’s going to bruise for a few hours after this. Debris rains down on him, but for a scant few moments all he can think of is Steve okay. The thought gets him nowhere, it leaves an ache in his chest for a good few seconds.

 

“Jesus, that Tank has it bad for you,” Archer grumbles, training his arrow the creature. Tank, it works for how big the thing is. The soldier trains his weapon on the Tank and fires. It’s not long before the clip runs only—he only had about five left if Goatee had given him a full clip. It crouches down for another run and this time they really don’t have a place to go. Improvisation it is. Grabbing at one of the few arrows left, the Soldier yanks it from the quiver and then beings his own charge. The muscles in his body are starting to quiver with exertion, but this is his last ditch shot if he want this kill to be his, if he can get awarded instead of punished. Everything screams as he launches himself in the air and connects with the shoulder of the Tank, he should have bounced off except he digs in with his metal fingers—clutching the arrow with his right hand and then with  all the strength he can muster he jams the shaft through the eye socket and into the brain wrenching it hard up and down until the shaft breaks in his hand. He hauls himself up over the shoulder of the beast as momentum takes it forward and to the ground.

 

“That was cool, I’m kind of mad you destroyed one of my arrows, but that was really cool.” The Soldier doesn’t have a free moment to reply because Steve is as his side that exact moment looking pale and haunted before he drags him close to his body. Relief, when people are relieved they act a certain way, but they never act this way to him and he can feel every muscle in his body tensing.

 

“Good job,” his handler nods.

 

-

 

“He took on not only a Charger but also a Tank, probably wouldn’t taken that one on alone if he could’ve,” Clint retells the story while snacking on some sort of rations. Charles can’t exactly tell what he’s eating. “Broke one of my arrows in the eye socket, I can’t believe he got fucking close enough for that.” Natasha doesn’t say anything just leans close to Clint and watches Bucky from hooded eyes.

 

“Steve isn’t going to be happy,” she murmurs, their small group (consisting of himself, Erik, and Clint) all look at her.

 

“Why is that?” Erik asks.

 

“From the way Winter Soldier was acting, I’m the one he’s following,” Natasha replies with a sigh, “And I haven’t given him a single order.”

 

“Which means?”

 

“A lot of things,” she answers cryptically. Her eyes dart to Charles and then she looks back at Clint who merely nods accepting her vague ways like it’s his nature.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a day, just an ordinary day, when zombies try to kill people.

Half a week after they found him, the Winter Soldier finds a few knives and straps them to his body. It’s been two days since Steve quietly pulled Natasha aside and they began to speak in hushed tones. Charles is curious as to what they were talking about because it’s obviously something about _Bucky_ and Natasha isn’t exactly the type to go about things in a delicate nature—unless the situation calls for it. Except even after their talk there wasn’t any real tension, Steve just nodded gave a quick smile with his head slightly bowed and his hand practically glued to the back of his neck.

 

Winter Soldier has nightmares though, off and on he’ll wake up body shaking and a scream just on the edge of his lips, Charles is pulled out of his dreams with him, the distress of the mind of the other man. He also notes that if Steve isn’t already awake he wakes up with the Soldier too—so does Nat and Clint.

 

It gets to the point where Charles moves towards Steve, his hands stuffed into his fraying pockets and he just looks at him waiting until Steve is done plotting out the best course from what intel Natasha and Clint have gathered.

 

“Do you need something, Charles?” Steve asks, his face is brightened with a smile and his eyes soft as he points his fingers along the routes—hastily sketched in by someone. Still even with the kind greeting, Charles feels like his tongue is going to stick to the roof of his mouth and never come down.

 

“Uh, I was actually wondering, I’m really good with people, you know talking to them and I was wondering if you would want me to talk to Win-to Bucky,” Charles manages to utter out. Steve hums.

 

“Because of your,” Steve points to his own temple a gesture that sends a chill through Charles because he tried to keep it quiet from everyone, except now it seems like more than just himself, Tony, Natasha, and Clint know. “Don’t worry, I had my suspicions, some of Tony’s jokes kind of were on the nose, plus Nat confided in me.”

 

“Thought she’d be a little better at secrets to be honest,” Charles mutters.

 

“Not when they have a possibility to compromise the team. It’s okay, she made sure I was absolutely pro-mutant before she even said anything. Also told me you don’t want people to know because well the whole political climate before this. Anyway, I’m not, I don’t think Bucky will welcome anyone poking at him right now.” Steve’s gaze glazes over for a few moments and he just lets out a sigh. Charles thinks he’s heard the expression called the thousand yard gaze, but he doesn’t want to poke at their de facto leader.

 

“He was open to it before?” Charles asks, the laugh he receives is brittle and bitter, but Steve stops staring off into the distance.

 

“Nightmares, they’re not just fictitious right now, he’s remembering something, that’s all I can get from him.” Charles just nods, it’s not his place to ask any more questions, Steve is struggling with this, so he’ll just let it be. He walks back to the group—to Erik and settles down.

 

“I’m telepathic,” he says, his breath rushing on as he feels everything just war within him. “I was trying not to let anyone know, but people have found out.” Erik pauses and his moved completely ceases for a good five minutes. “I don’t know what you’re thinking Erik, I don’t pry into the minds of my friends, so if you could just, you know let it out?” At his side Erik shudders.

 

“I thought you were something, like me, but,” Erik laughs, “I didn’t expect something like that. Is that why you know where they are all the time?”

 

“Yeah, their minds aren’t like—well anyone alive—so I just stretch my senses to see if they’re within my parameters. You said I was like you?” Charles asks, he knows—he doesn’t know he has his suspicions.

 

“Yeah,” Erik replies, holding his hand out and with it his weapon floats with him. “Magnetism.”

 

“I thought it was you who dropped the bus,” Charles teases lightly. His heart flutters when he sees Erik smile, and he can’t help but smile right back.

 

Bucky slips the night watch that night.

 

Charles wakes up to the sounds of Steve cursing and storming through their small camp, uncaring if he’s making too much noise. He can’t even ignore Steve’s mind if he wants to because it is screaming loud and clear with worry—not that his face doesn’t betray any of that. Charles rubs at his temples and squints again; everyone else is also awake and watching Steve as he seemingly has a breakdown. Tony is the first to get close enough to the fearless leader.

 

Bruce follows after and eventually they are all in a semi-circle around Steve wondering exactly what they are going to do. Charles feels like there is a slight  chance they will be packing up and trying to track Bucky, but then he thinks that even in his most desperate moments with Bucky he won’t risk them all.

 

“What’s the plan Cap?” Tony asks. “Are we going after the one man army?” Steve looks at all of them, his blue eyes wide and he’s breathing short. Charles can see the yes on his lips, and he resigns himself to following a ghost, when Steve’s chest and shoulders completely deflate—swooping down in an appearance of a man less strong and capable than Steve is.

 

“No, we can’t risk it. He, he isn’t completely helpless and he has an idea of what he’s facing.” It’s the honest truth; they all know that—they’ve watched him tear apart more than enough of the infected and the specials. It just doesn’t feel right to watch Steve not to go after the man he’s hardly let out of his sight. Charles reaches outwards seeing if he can feel him, or really anything but Bucky has to be moving fast because he doesn’t catch anything human. Luckily he really doesn’t catch much of them either.

 

“Let’s not go that way,” Charles murmurs. Steve looks at him and nods. Neither of them move while the rest go to grab the packs. Erik hesitates for a few moments, his eyes traveling over Charles asking him silently if everything is fine. It only takes a nod from him for Erik to amble towards their things.

 

“Do you?” Steve begins, but he cuts himself short and just looks torn.

 

“No, he’s out of my range. So I don’t know how perceptive he is, but he could just be hanging around outside of it. I can’t tell though.” Steve stays quiet, his jaw is set in that way that usually entails that the zombie horde is going to feel the brute force of a super soldier.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Steve says eventually, though it sounds more like something he’s saying to himself than to Charles.

 

“Yeah, he will be,” he agrees.  Erik is back by his side, pack in his hand and brows furrowed.

 

“Change his mind?” he grumbles.

 

“No, just trying to make himself see he’s making the best decision.”

 

After six days, Steve stops waiting every night for Bucky to return. Things start to go back to normal, but it’s slows and cumbersome at the same time. Tony thankfully lays off any and all comments he could make about Bucky—there are a ton and even Charles can think of six—but in the ways of good will with Tony it usually ends with other people having comments said about them. After a few death glares—and one moment when Natasha just hesitated enough to make Tony worry—he’s laid off the assassins, and instead focused on Charles and Erik.

 

“When is the wedding Charlie?” Tony teases and Erik just shoots him a tired glare. “I think you’d look great in blood stained peach colored suits. Your boyfriend does know he’s not a real shark right?” It’s obnoxious but Charles doesn’t have the heart to call Tony out on it.

 

“Tony!” Steve calls out and while Tony doesn’t immediately run to Steve’s side he saunters quicker than he normally would. The two of them stand side by side, Steve talking maybe making plans and Tony nodding every so often before he comments—hands moving with his words. For a moment it feels like it did before they found Bucky. Steve motions for Bruce next and then it solidifies. Most likely Steve wants to know something scientific—maybe something to make their lives easier. Charles inches closer—his own brain jumping through hoops trying to think of what they could be talking about without actually listening in to them. Except when he does he sees them. It’s a bigger mass than they’ve ever seen, but they haven’t been noticed—not yet.

 

“You know the area Xavier?” Steve asks, his voice a little strained, and at first Charles wants to say of course he doesn’t know the area. Except that isn’t want Steve is asking.

 

“He’s not much of a country boy, Cap,” Tony drawls, “Or did you forget about when he whined about missing his lovely cup of English tea?” Steve quirks a small smile before shaking his head.

 

“I think we should head that way, it seems best,” Charles answers finally after a few searches.

 

“To the water?” Bruce blinks, “Not exactly the best choice, but they do seem to be all heading away from the water.”

 

“Think they’re getting some hydrophobia now?” Tony jokes quietly. “Let’s just steal a yacht. Someone in this ragtag group knows how to drive it.” Steve gives him a sidelong glance and shakes his head.

 

“Not really up for being stranded in the middle of the ocean, but we are going to need some place that we can call our own,” Steve’s mouth is set to a grim line and he looks tired—Charles feels tired. “We need maps, accurate ones.” It’s going to be nearly impossible to do that, and Steve knows it so Charles keeps his mouth shut and nods. However, Tony is never the type to actually keep quiet when he thinks a plan won’t work.

 

“What? And who are we going to send up there, huh? Bird boy can’t fly no matter how good his eyes are, I don’t have the suit, I don’t even fucking have JARVIS!” he challenges. Shoulders tighten and the jaw clenches Charles doesn’t need his powers to know that Steve is this close to losing it all—all the pretend normality is about to go out the window.

 

“Um, well you know, I think Erik and I could help either Natasha or Clint or both you know,” he steps in between the two men and smiles awkwardly.

 

Four of them, that’s what it ends up being. Steve gives them all the go ahead—he checks their packs himself ignoring Tony’s bad mood and Bruce’s sighs—but he whispers to Charles to stick in range and if they need anything he needs to contact him.

 

“Everything is trashed,” Clint comments hopping onto debris and looking around. “There might be a house, but it won’t last even a second if anything more than the normal types decide to go after us.”

 

“If only we had someone who could build strong fences to keep them out,” Natasha comments dryly. She shares a look with Clint and Charles works his jaw because he’s never outted Erik—he can’t be sure Erik hasn’t outted himself.

 

He changes the subject instead, “Did you two know when Bucky left?” They don’t share another look but Charles sees how Natasha tenses and then sighs. She’s rubbing at her temple and looks over her shoulders.

 

“No, we didn’t see anything. One moment he was there curled up next to Steve and the next we knew he was gone. Steve woke up ten minutes later,” she says softly. What Charles doesn’t ask is if Steve ever blamed them and if he’s ever forgiven them. It’s not something they need to talk about. Erik brushes his hand against Charles’ back and now he wants to ask if Erik told them, or if he told them before are after he mentioned it to Charles. It’s selfish he knows it because he didn’t say a word until almost everyone except Erik knew—maybe Bruce knew and Thor and Loki could always tell. Plus, when Erik isn’t hanging out with him he’s around Clint or Natasha—mostly Natasha.

 

Charles opens his mouth when he feels the minds. It’s a mass of muffled buzzing—his stomach lurches as he pulls his cricket bat out. Erik already has his own weapon brandished and he’s sure that so do Natasha and Clint. It isn’t pretty the fights that he gets into are more or less a messy experience of flailing body parts as he swings as hard as he can—Erik is only a little better because Clint and Natasha move like it’s second nature. They survive the wave, but Charles can feel a stitch in his side and Clint took a nasty fall on some debris cutting up his leg. They’re a mess and if another wave comes then they’re all royally screwed. Luckily for all of them, they are just barely in range so that he can contact Steve. The flare of panic and worry that comes from Steve’s end doesn’t sooth any of Charles’ nerves.

 

“He coming?” Erik demands rubbing at his arms and shoulders. The frown he’s been wearing on his face only deepens the longer they wait, but it makes sense because there is never just one wave of the creatures because they always call it the first wave. Again, Charles hears them mentally before any of them can in the physical world. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Natasha hefting Clint up, slinging his arm over her shoulder while she pulls out her pistol—the one she saves for special occasions.

 

The first creature appears, racing through a few jagged pieces of glass and rubble before a crack sounds and it falls to the ground in a heap. A second and third follow it’s example racing only to fall when it’s head explodes into what is probably left of its brain matter and blood.

 

“What the hell?” Clint asks, his voice is on the cusp of slurring and Charles is torn between finding out who is helping them and getting Clint back to camp. Except before any of them can move Bucky drops down from somewhere startling both Charles and Erik.

 

“Need help?” he asks, letting the strap to a rifle rest against his chest. There is something to his voice a little more sarcasm that wasn’t there before.

 

“Why are you here?” Erik snarls. His eyes dart between Bucky and the creatures as they pile through everything. Bucky just smirks pulling out a wicked looking knife as if that were his answer. Charles almost asks the question next but the answer appears when the Ex-Captain America climbs over one of the hills of debris. There is no other reason for Bucky to return unless it has something to do with one Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the end of this arc. Bucky and Steve are going to have a few more arcs in this universe but you know so is most of the others as well. I hope you liked it. Thank you all for the Kudos.
> 
> Also thank you to Kat and Els for holding my hands through most of this. Also Reg because you pretty much held my hand too. Also for all the enabling and cheering. That was amazing too.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am very much inspired by MCU and I fell even harder for Bucky in this movie and I just needed to get some of my Bucky feelers out. Plus Zombies? When they show up. This one will have more parts because it's already longer than the other parts in this series.


End file.
